MILLION WORDS | ❝There's a million words I should've said, I remember you were standing in my doorway and the words were on my lips, that you never looked so beautiful. Oh just to be near you, don't you know how good that feels? These are all the th...
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♚♚♚
The meadow was quiet except for the soft whisper of the wind. The tall grass swayed gently, brushing against my knees as I walked toward the great oak tree at the edge of the field. Its branches stretched wide, sturdy and unchanging — a sentinel that had watched over Peter and me for years.
This place had been ours since the early days of our reign. No matter how heavy the crown sat on our heads, no matter what decisions weighed on our shoulders, we always came here. It was a promise whispered between us: no matter what happens, we won't forget us.
I sat down beneath the tree, fingers brushing over the worn patch of earth where we had carved out countless evenings together. The memory of his laughter echoed faintly in my mind, and I smiled despite myself. He used to tease me about always getting grass stains on my gowns. I used to tease him for falling asleep against the trunk before the stars even came out.
I waited.
The sky shifted from gold to violet, then deepened into blue as the stars blinked awake. I drew my knees to my chest, hugging them close as the chill of the evening crept in. Still, Peter didn't come.
A lump rose in my throat.
How could he forget?
For years, he never once failed to meet me here. Even on the hardest days, even when council meetings dragged late into the evening, even when battles loomed at the edges of Narnia — Peter had always come. I had told myself I didn't need much, that being Queen meant sacrifice, but this one thing had been ours.
And now... he wasn't here.
By the time I rose to leave, the moon hung high and silver, casting long shadows across the meadow. My heart felt heavier with every step back to the castle, as though each echo of my footsteps reminded me of the absence beside me.
When I finally reached my chambers, the silence was unbearable. I lit a candle, its small flame dancing against the walls, and pulled my robe tightly around me. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pressed my hand against my necklace — the red heart warm against my palm. I willed it to remind me of Peter's love, to banish the gnawing fear that maybe, just maybe, something was changing between us.
But the emptiness lingered.
♚♚♚
By morning, my patience had run dry. If Peter wouldn't tell me what was going on, then I had to find out another way. And deep down, I already suspected where the answers lay.
I walked through the corridors, my slippers whispering against the stone floors. The castle was hushed at this hour, sunlight just spilling through the tall windows, gilding the walls in gold. Each step tightened the knot in my stomach.
When I reached Susan's chamber door, I hesitated. My hand hovered above the wood. For a moment, I almost turned away. But then I thought of the meadow, of the hours I had spent waiting for someone who never came. My hand balled into a fist, and I knocked.
The door opened a crack, revealing Susan seated at her vanity, brushing out her long dark hair. Her eyes met mine in the mirror, calm and collected as always.
"Good morning," she said softly.
I didn't bother with pleasantries. "Did you say something to Peter about... us?" My voice was sharper than I intended, but I couldn't stop it.
Susan's hand stilled mid-stroke, the brush lingering against her hair. Her reflection regarded me with quiet thought. "Why do you ask?"
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "Because something has changed. He's grown distant, and I know it's not because he stopped caring. So if you've been speaking to him—"
"I've only been looking out for him," Susan interrupted, setting her brush down. She swiveled in her chair to face me fully. "He's my brother, Serena. My responsibility, just as much as Narnia is. I worry that... your relationship blinds the both of you. That you'll put each other before the crown."
Her words hit like ice water. I felt my hands tremble, and I clenched them tightly to my sides. "That's not fair," I whispered.
"It's not meant to be fair," Susan replied, her voice level but firm. "It's meant to protect him — to protect all of us."
I took a step forward, anger simmering beneath my skin. "My relationship with Peter is none of your business. I'm the one who loves him, Susan. I'm the one he chose. Unless you suddenly became the second girlfriend, I would like you to stop meddling."
Susan flinched at my words, though her expression hardened quickly after. "You mistake my concern for meddling. I only want what's best for him."
"Peter is a grown man. He doesn't need you controlling his heart." My voice cracked, betraying more of my hurt than I wanted. I turned on my heel before she could answer, leaving her chamber with my head held high — but my chest burning.
As the door shut behind me, my confidence wavered. I wanted to believe I had silenced her doubts, but deep down, a cruel seed of fear had been planted. What if Susan was right?
What if Peter was already slipping away?
The rest of the day passed in fragments. At breakfast, Peter sat beside me but barely spoke, his attention locked on the papers Edmund brought to the table. When our shoulders brushed, I felt the familiar warmth of him, but he didn't seem to notice.
During the afternoon council, I tried to catch his gaze, hoping for one of his reassuring smiles. But he was distant, distracted, his jaw tight as though the weight of the entire kingdom pressed down on him alone.
I told myself it was the crown, the constant responsibilities, the decisions no king should have to make. But Susan's words twisted in my chest like a knife: You'll put each other before the crown.
When evening came, I found myself wandering back to the meadow. I stood beneath the oak tree, staring at the place where we once carved our promise into the bark. My fingers traced over the grooves, old and weathered now, and I whispered into the wind:
